


Lady of Emancipation

by SullustanGin



Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Behind the Scenes, Bowdaar is the best wingman, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaotic Good never dies, Corellian Whiskey, During Canon, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I miss my other smuggler companions, Lana Beniko needs a drink, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Theron and feels, Why can't I just get on my ship and go smuggling?, sullustan gin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullustanGin/pseuds/SullustanGin
Summary: In order to bring Bowdaar back into the fold, the Smuggler has to fight in the Eternal Championship (which is just a fancy title wrapped in society's approval for cage matches and gladiatorial slavery).  Theron grapples with the aftermath and the realization she won't change her ways for him... and yet she does.Note: Although part of a series, this one was written first as a stand-alone; it can be read with no other context.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Female Smuggler, Theron Shan/Smuggler
Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642009
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Lady of Emancipation

**Author's Note:**

> I got to that sweet spot in Chapter IX where the female Smuggler Captain is in a relationship with Theron, and Bowdaar is back. I literally got off SWTOR for three days because I felt as if I won the game. This feeds off that high.

Theron had been working late – as usual – in the war room when a silent security alert popped on his status screen. He cast a glance at it. Upon review, the alert had come from the ship docks, specifically… hers.

Theron almost turned it off. He knew she chafed under the weight of “Alliance Commander” – at heart, she was the smuggler captain he had met on Republic Fleet. He didn’t ask questions when she took her freighter out for runs at night. Sometimes she was back before dawn. Other times, she commed in from wherever she was – but the administration always did get done, so no one asked questions as to why she was off Odessen.

But the one thing he always did – and nobody knew this – was watch her arrive home. He tried to break himself of the habit early on. She was a grown woman. She’d survived worse things than a midnight cruise around the galaxy. 

Theron needed proof of life. He suspected she knew. He theorized she deliberately tripped the security alarm on her dock: once when she landed, and once when she got out. She’d do a walk-about her ship, checking the exterior, as if checking for damage, and then she’d head back into her captain’s quarters to sleep. The second tripping was all staged, he was pretty sure. She could have just stayed in her ship and gone to bed, but no, she got out to give a show, to prove she was in one piece. 

Theron had never convinced her that the Alliance Commander’s quarters were hers. They had remained empty since her arrival. She slept in her ship, surrounded by trophies of her adventures, memories of her friends, and treasures of her parents.

The term “treasures” shouldn’t have been used at all, but she valued those objects the most. The expensive cigarettes she burned to keep the smell of her father around (she only smoked when she thought Death was winning that day), the colored glass earrings that dangled off her nav board (she’d never pierced her ears), the few family holos they had (she’d had a happy childhood). Her parents, long deceased, lingered and made the place feel full. Homey. Safe. 

The crewmembers she’d had helped that along. Theron had learned that on the nights he came over to play cards and kill time on Yavin. The Wookkiee could cook. The exiled queen could make the engines sing. The Mon Calamari could always make her laugh, and the odd droid she’d fix would skitter around the cabin, like a pet cat. The Mandalorian enjoyed taking his money, no doubt. The farmboy was a harder disc for Theron to slot. By the time they celebrated the end of the Revan situation on Yavin, Corso had drunkenly referred to himself as “Uncle Corso” to the wonderful children his Captain would one day have, the ones he would teach to shoot and to navigate the stars. 

Theron probably should have taken that as a hint that the crew knew he and their Captain were something more – even before either of them knew it. After the party wound down and the Captain ensured that none of her crew would wander off, intoxicated, into the jungle, Theron had led her to his shuttle. Their private celebration on Yavin had been entirely playful. There were no declarations of eternal love. Lot of teasing, lot of filthy language, lot of experimentation to see how many ways one could have sex in a small space. At the end, after she’d ridden them both over the edge, they had agreed that this shouldn’t be the last time they were together. 

The image of her, still on top, hair wild, lived in his dreams for nearly five years. It was in that moment that she wore nothing but a smile in response to his dazed comment, “You _are_ good at everything.” He had so loved that look on her face that he repeated those words later, just to see that near-diabolical grin. Then they both left Yavin. That was one of his more happy memories that, in retrospect, became increasingly bitter, because she hadn’t abandoned him. She had tried to draw closer to him. He refused. Then she was taken from him. Theron had mentally beaten himself up for ages after he turned down her cantina drinks after Ziost. He was convinced they would only have that one time.

After the Eternal Fleet attack, the crew had stayed together for 3 months before disbanding. It had been Bowdaar, the Wookiee, who’d handed over the proverbial keys. “No money without the boss, and we won’t sell her. She needs a dock. Take her?” He felt as if he was taking the Captain’s orphaned child in, the weight of the smuggler’s ship so immense. He was to love it and care for it, until she returned. 

It was just a goddamned ship. But it wasn’t just a ship – any captain would tell you that. Theron forgot the number of nights he’d spent on there, trying to find her, trying to think like she did, what to do, where to go…as if consulting the ship in her absence. It didn’t work. The ship was cold and unresponsive to Theron, as if sourly watching the intruder who had lured its Captain away from her true calling, the things she was best at. 

The ship blamed him. He blamed himself. He listened to her last voice files, again and again, telling Corso to go, to leave her, to save the crew, save the ship. He read her logs. He watched holos of the early days of the crew that weren’t passcoded (she was so young in those, not the woman he knew yet), saw them celebrate Life Days and Name Days. He sat on the gangplank and smoked one of the expensive cigarettes on a particularly harrowing night, when he discovered she was alive but potentially lost to him. But when the sounds, sights, and smells ended, the place was a tomb.

When she stepped on the ship, five years after she left it, it was almost as if the ghosts had come alive to greet her, to welcome her…and to welcome him, finally. The ship felt different once it was reunited with its master. Theron considered that night to be the consummation of their relationship, not Yavin. It was the first night he’d made love to her in her bed. 

As they escaped the cantina party, she’d warned him that the carbonite had robbed her of some physical sensations; she still wanted him to enjoy himself. That had been taken as a challenge by Theron. He’d used his hands and mouth to map out her body, carefully memorizing where she had gone numb and lavishing attention where he could make her moan. Theron, now past thirty, had the patience his younger self did not. She came once thanks to his mouth, and later, she came again when he was inside of her. As he heard his name bounce off the hull of ship, feeling her hands claw at his hips, he lost the war with his own desperate body and followed her into ecstasy a few thrusts later. She pulled him close to feel the weight of his body on her. Her involuntary utterance, “I’m not broken,” nearly made him cry. He held her as she did. For the first time, on the ship, they slept together. 

That memory had not – would not -- become as painful as Yavin. Now he was attached the ship, too. Theron had a bed that he sporadically used in his quarters, but increasingly, “her bed” in the Captain’s Quarters was becoming “their bed.” 

He waited for two activations of the security alarm on her dock before dismissing the notification. But then came a third as his hand hovered over the touchscreen. 

Not normal. Theron slammed down his data pad and palmed the holovid screen. When the image flickered into sight, his heart skipped a few beats as he saw someone else with her on the catwalk from the ship to the port. In the darkness backlit by the moon, the Captain had shed her favorite coat, walking in shirtsleeves. Her hat was off, gripped in her hand. Her gait was slow, as if stiff. The Captain’s footing faltered, but before she could land on her knees, the huge, hulking companion scooped her up in a fluid movement. It was done without hesitating, almost anticipating that the Captain would need him. Chest tight, Theron paused the security image and magnified it. 

A relieved sigh escaped his mouth. It was Bowie – Bowdaar. He didn’t know if the Wookiee would let him use the nickname, or if that was a name reserved for his mother and his Captain. Theron knew she had been desperate to find them all, but Bowdaar was particularly dear. Dreams had troubled her. But there appeared to have been a complication.

As Bowdaar hefted her up, her face turned upward toward the holo cam. She was smeared in blood and bruises. He could barely see her features. As his blood ran cold, Theron saw another security alert flip, down the hallway… then it darted back toward the last junction. Medbay. She was trying to direct Bowdaar to the medbay. Theron turned off the screen and stalked out of the war room, breaking into a jog to try to meet them there. 

Theron was mindful of the sound of his footfalls in the dark and tried to mitigate them. He did not want the entire base turned out for this. He rounded the corner to see the Wookiee carefully placing his Captain’s feet on the ground. “It’s my head that got busted in, not my leg. I think I can walk in a straight line,” he heard her say. 

The Wookiee groaned at her. “You nearly took a header off the dock – your bell is rung. You need a doctor,” he told her in Shyriiwook, which Theron could translate with his implants.

“Captain.” He hated to interrupt, but she was now dripping blood from her face on the floor. 

Her head turned quickly to see him, and she nearly spun herself over, somehow still gleeful. Bowdaar steadied her. “Look who I found!” He could see that she had returned in triumphant and good spirits, but by the stars. She was battered.

“Trouble, apparently. And Bowdaar. Welcome to Odessen.” Theron tilted his head in recognition of the Wookiee.

“My Captain arrives with great honor and virtue. She is the breaker of chains. Hello, Theron Shan,” the Wookiee proudly greeted him. Then he peered down at the Captain, as if asking an unsaid question.

“You got business to take care of – go for it. Theron’s got me here. I think?” Her voice hitched as she caught the stare Theron was lasering into her. She finally seemed to become aware that she was bloodied, and looked down at her shirt. The normally white button down was now turning various shades of red-brown as the blood ran down from her nose and mouth and into the fabric. Where the blood hadn’t spread, there were bits of splatter from whatever she had gotten into a fight with. “Uh. Bowie. My quarters. New shirt. I think this one is going to be Seetwo’s new life challenge in cleaning.”

Bowdaar shot a look at Theron, an unasked question. With a brisk nod from the SIS agent, Bowdaar ambled off down the hallway.

With two long strides, Theron had reached her side and was guiding her into the medbay with his hands on her waist. “What the hell happened to you?” 

“Hi, honey, how was your day?” she chirped. He was not sure if she was dead-set on pissing him off or if she’d rattled her skull so badly her short-term memory was now resetting every five minutes. 

Their motion activated the sensors in the medbay, and he flipped on a few overhead lights as they walked down the side aisle along the wall. His hands left her waist to grab a box of lab gloves and a basic kit off the counter. 

She kept right on going down the side aisle, completely missing the exam table he was aiming her toward. He physically had to reach out, grab her wrist, and gently redirect her. He knocked on the table. “Up you go.” Theron was being particularly expedient with his words as this entire situation was turning him into a human knot. 

The Captain did as she was told. Theron called up the concussion protocol on a medbay computer and fired up the overhead scanner. The thing lit up like a Life Day tree. He let out a low whistle. “It says you should be unconscious, more or less.” 

“Yeah, figured,” she replied flippantly. She fidgeted. Theron didn’t like that. Not normal. Fidgeting was a trait her father had trained her out of as a child, both in terms of playing cards and handling a blaster. 

Theron ‘tsk tsk tsk’ed as he read through the protocol for the typical patient. Then he read what he should do if he needed to interrogate a prisoner with a concussion humanely. “I’m going to give you a few hypos to stop you from being too spacey while I try to figure out what you did to yourself.”

She scowled at him. “You should have seen the other guys.” 

Theron’s eyes shut as he exhaled heavily. He wasn’t going to like this story. Despite his dread, he shot her up with a few painkillers. He waffled over the truth serum momentarily but ultimately elected to give her a brain enhancer that would wear off in about two hours and likely make her fall asleep at that point. After the last hypo, she seemed to shake her head, as if trying to clear away the clouds. “You with me? You want to tell me what happened?”

The Captain nodded. The first thing to do was to clean the gore off her in order to see where the hell she was bleeding from. _Get it together, Shan. Master Zho time._

As he prepped a sterile wipe, the Captain launched into her story. “So. About two months ago, I get a tip-off from Hylo about a Wookiee working a cantina in Zakuul, Platform 6. Remember that place?” Theron grunted when she stopped talking, trying to get her to keep going. “Ok. So. Turns out last time I was there, he was on vacat--- sonofabantha THAT _stings_.” To her credit, she didn’t shirk away from Theron and let him clean off her left cheek.

“Keep going. Story will distract you.” Theron was still fighting with his internal feelings as he wiped off her face in effort to find where she was actually hurt and what was splatter from her rival.

“Right. So yeah, come to find out that Bowie is hosting a fight club in his basement. He’s doing it so he can train fighters to clean out slave owners, then buy the slaves off their owners and set them free or train them up so he can free more slaves.” The Captain stilled as Theron hit another raw spot. 

Theron’s brow creased as he traced the cut’s path along her cheek in two directions. One part went into her lip, which was fat with a bruise. The other-- “Did you know you lost part of your ear lobe?” His voice was laced with no small ounce of horror. 

“That would explain the blood, right?”

“Captain. Not funny. Are you going to tell me you started fighting in the fight club tonight?”

The second he saw her lips quirk, he knew he was doomed. “No, I started two months ago, the night I found Bowie.”

Theron nearly dropped the sterile gauze, but instead bit his own lip. He wordlessly grabbed for an electrosuture and steadied his hands. With it, he squeezed the bleeding portions of her ear back together and stitched them up. She yelped. “Why?” he managed to ask through grit teeth.

“We need to build up a prize fighter to lure one of the top guys into betting the entire business. So I worked my way up. Nothing to write home about. Then last week, this one guy makes the bet of all time – one night only. We win, we make a load of money, take his franchise, and free a lot of people.” 

Theron put down the electrosuture. “And if you lost?” He picked up a kolto gel and carefully spread it around the newly sewn ear and down her face to the fat lip. 

“Wasn’t happening.”

“And _if you lost?_ ” Theron repeated the question, his eyes meeting hers. 

The edge of her eyes softened, and some of the bravado slipped away. “Bowie bet himself. Another century of servitude to free others.” In that moment, Theron understood why she had wanted to find the Wookiee first. Just like her, he couldn’t stand injustice, and he didn’t want anyone else to take the risks he did. The pair of them together again – Theron wasn’t sure this was a good idea. “I told him I’d bust him out and take him here if things went wrong.”

Theron forced himself to keep his breathing steady as his gloved hands gently tipped her head upward. He ran the sterile cloth over the skin by her eyes. She had a pair of shiners but no cuts. He found another wound on her chin. “And this is what happened when things went right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Explain.” Theron wondered which vital organ in his body was going to be destroyed by her first: his heart, which was out of beat every time she did something ridiculous; or his stomach, as he was now fairly sure he was working on an ulcer. 

**

She felt flat out awful. This was definitely one of her stupider moments, but … no, she didn’t regret it. The pain was dulled but eventually it would be back. Making Theron lose his mind was not fun to watch. Having to work tomorrow with a concussion _really_ was going to suck. But. No. No regrets, in the big view. 

The Captain waited patiently as Theron cleaned and dressed the scrape along her chin. “Not to sound dirty, but you’re going to have to look at my mouth,” she muttered. 

“Explain first. I’m sure I’ll find something else to work on.” She saw his eyes light upon the state of her hair – yes, she knew she was wounded up there too.

The Captain nodded and obediently bowed her head as Theron positioned her under the exam light. “Thing is, the guy wanted a real show tonight. No blasters or lasertech. He wanted fists. No gloves. Objects could be used, but nothing fancy. If you wanted a sword, it couldn’t be a vibroblade. Just old edges, glass bottles.”

“You are not a brawler.” Theron paused his examination of her head. “Can you pull off your gloves?”

She hesitated. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to swell up once I do.”

Theron shifted his weight. “Gotta see if anything is broken.” 

The Captain acquiesced. “I’m going to be useless for like a week, aren’t I?” As her hands escaped the confines of the lightly armored gloves, they began to swell and the bruises became increasingly evident, as predicted. Wordlessly, she held them up toward the overhead scanner, which recalibrated from scanning her head. “Not broken.” She could see Theron glaring at her hands, so she lowered them to give him access to her head. “Dad taught me how not to die in a bar fight. We’d spent weeks getting to this point, so--” Her breath hitched as his hand grazed a large lump on the back left side of her head.

“If it went any deeper, I think I’d see bits of your skull.” The Captain could just imagine Theron wincing.

“Yeah.” A beat. “I think they gave us a commemorative holovid of the fight, if you wanted to watch. I thought I looked hot at the beginning.”

She heard an instrument clatter behind her. Although she was about as Force sensitive as a mudhorn, she could just _feel_ Theron trying not to strangle her. “I think I’d rather gargle razor blades, thanks,” was his tart reply.

She stretched her arms out on either side of herself to stabilize. He was probably going to fix it in the most effective, but adequately painful way possible. “Um. I did pretty well until the last round – guy got an illegal shock pistol off on Bowie and he was just paralyzed for like five minutes. Bowie’d been taking the big fellas and let me handle the secondaries. And yeah. Big fella got me.” She let out a hiss as Theron disinfected the wound and began to sew it up the old fashioned way. “That bad?”

“Yeah, that bad. Couldn’t electrosuture it.” After about 15 minutes, Theron carefully helped her sit up. “Nose. It’s going to hurt.” She nodded. There was an audible crack as it was forced back into place, and a new river of blood cascaded from her nose. Both of them uttered some form of an obscenity as he tilted her forward to bleed on the floor and grabbed a sterile gauze to try to stop the bleeding. “I’ve heard that pain in multiple places reduces the intensity of pain in one place.”

“Is that some Jedi nonsense right there?” came a muffled and stuffy reply. 

He had to stifle a laugh at that. “You wouldn’t disagree with me if you saw the state of your head.” Is…” He paused as he gently pulled the now brown collar away from her neck. “….is that a burn?” 

She groaned. “Probably. One made by a fire pit in the middle of the floor. I landed in it at one point, but I had other problems to worry about. Didn’t feel it.” 

Despite her hunched over position and the freshly bounced brain in her skull, the Captain immediately detected his change of mood. Theron just stopped and stepped away from her, out of her line of sight. She turned her head – slowly – to look at Theron. His face was blank as he stared fixedly at the medlab floor, hands still in gloves, which were now quite bloody. He held them slightly up and away from his body. 

“Theron?”

**

This was too much for him. His internal monologue jibbered helplessly as his Jedi training tried to corral its panic. For someone to have been alone – and lonely – for so long, then to get her, and then have to do this sort of work on her— _you’re the best one to care for her_ ….knowing that someone had brutalized her, wasn’t aware she’d been doing this sort of thing for weeks…months… _she did it for her friend_. But what about me? Aren’t I something more than--

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cut through and pierced the bubble he’d surrounded himself with. “I’m sorry this is hurting you. If you want, you can call someone else in to do this. I wasn’t – I figured we’d get a droid…”

She trailed off as Theron turned his gaze from the floor to her. “Are you sorry at all for what you did? I mean, it’s clear you didn’t want me to be the one to catch you.”

Theron felt the anger simmering off him, and he was fairly sure she could feel the heat from her position. “No. I saved a friend. I freed countless others. I did it once for Bowdaar to liberate him all those years ago. I did it again tonight.”

Theron didn’t speak for a moment, then found his voice. “You are the commander of a fragile alliance. We can’t afford to have you die in some back alley on some wretched planet.” He snapped off his bloodied gloves and grabbed a new set to put on. 

“I have told you, I’ve told Lana, I’ve told everyone working under me, I don’t want to be the commander.” 

And there it was. Theron clenched his jaw. That rebellion. That old argument. Lana had the charisma of a parked speeder. He had the patience and diplomacy of a crosswired assault droid, as evidenced by his involuntary reaction to her statement. Politicians were corrupt, armies of both sides had grudges. But she – the Captain could run game. She knew how to play people – it was part of being a card shark and being a smuggler. He knew she could use honest feelings to do dishonest work, and dishonest feelings to do very honest work – as long as it got done. She had done business with both sides. She was technically neutral. 

Despite the look on his face, she had the gall to finish, plaintively, “I just want to captain my ship, run supplies, find the next great score.” 

Theron almost mechanically walked over to her. “That was your life five years ago. The universe is very different and so is your role in it. Get with it,” he coldly stated. Despite the cool steel in his voice, his touch remained light. “I’m going to look in your mouth now. Despite your current instincts, please don’t bite me.”

He could sense the tiny outrage spiking through her veins, but the Captain opened her mouth. Theron squinted, then reached for a hand light to shine in as gloved fingers ran over her teeth and gums. “You have a bunch of cracked teeth. Probably from when he slammed your head into the floor and scraped up your chin, I would guess.” She made a non-committal “huh” noise. “And you bit off parts of your cheek and tongue. Nothing is broken but you need to get the droids to bond your teeth tomorrow. And eating will be painful for awhile, but I can’t do anything with the mouth except tell you to keep it clean.”

As he pulled both the light and his hand out her mouth, she primly closed her mouth and looked up at him. Theron silently gestured to her, giving her the floor to speak; she hadn’t bit him, so it was a just reward. “It’s been five years for you. It’s …not been that long for me, in terms of how time feels.” She swallowed. “I want my ship back. I want my crew back. For me, having it all was real less than a year ago.”

Theron tiredly pulled off his gloves. “It has to be you. We do not have time to dig up heroes from old wars to fight a new one. You’re unconventional. So’s the war. You went where angels feared to tread, with Marr of all _things_.”

Sharply, she corrected him. “He was a man. A Sith. But he was a man, and a brave one.” 

Theron conceded the point. “A brave man. But you’ve got to understand that when you dared, the galaxy watched. When you told Lana to stuff it and saved Zakuul while still defrosting, the galaxy watched. You did the right thing at the right time, as the galaxy watched. And I’m sorry that they’re like me. They fell in love with you.” 

Theron regretted the words as they came out of his mouth – it revealed too much of what he felt and was so poorly-worded – _I’m sorry they fell in love with you, like I did. Goddamn, Shan. You can’t even rearrange that to fix it._ “That didn’t even sound good in my head, I didn’t—” Fresh gloves on, he came back to her at the table, trying to fix things, trying to make her--

And then she grabbed his forearm, careful not to touch the sterile gloves. “I don’t want to be this Alliance’s pretty face. I don’t want to be empress or whatever throne Lana wants my ass on. I am still myself.” Her speech was now halting and hesitant, as if she was trying to not make the situation worse with her own words. “The only thing that has changed in me and how I live is in regard to you.”

Theron’s muscles tensed. “I’m not seeing how. You do the same things you did before, regardless of me.” He broke contact and walked toward a sterile container full of burn kits.

“Yes. But no. I’m guessing it’s time for my back?” Theron wordlessly nodded, not looking at her. He could hear the familiar noise of her unbuttoning her shirt, slower and far more cautious than usual. “I told Bowie about us on the ride home. He drove, I bled into a bucket.” Uncontrollably, Theron huffed as walked back to the exam table. “He’d heard about the Alliance and the derring-do of its Commander, not realizing it was me until I showed up in his cantina. Two months is a long time to watch someone between fights. It’s a good amount of time to catch up. He’s changed. Less angry. More alive for himself. He thinks he’ll be even more lively with me back in his world.” 

Carefully, she shrugged out of her shirt and Theron watched as her back became exposed. His brow furrowed as a vast series of bruises also appeared along her torso. “I think the only part of you that isn’t bruised or blistered is where your sports support was.” Lips pursed, he kicked the shirt to the side, for the rubbish bot to pick up. He went back to the cabinet and pulled out another kolto infusion. “I’m not going to disturb the blisters – just make sure you don’t get a screaming infection as they do their job.” Theron briefly ran his hands along the sides of her body, checking for a rib break. “Breathe deep once for me.” 

The Captain nodded and did as told. “I don’t think I broke anything except my nose. Outside hurts, inside is ok. Anyway, I told him about us on the way home. He said it made sense now.”

“What did?” Theron asked, knowing she’d stop talking if he didn’t answer. He sidestepped behind her in order to get to work on the burns.

“How do I put it. You’ve read my file. Bowdaar used to say I had the heart of a Zalorian rock-lion but the morals of a common alley cat.” That actually got a laugh out of Theron, and the sound made the Captain smirk. By the Maker, that Wookiee knew her well. “I’ll tell him you appreciated the assessment. But that was before Rishi. You read that part of my file since then?” 

“No,” came the quick answer. “I honestly didn’t want to know. By the time I worked up the nerve – the night I wrote your letter –” _oh, that letter_ “I assumed some parts of it had been edited or destroyed thanks to Saresh trying to cover her ass.” 

The Captain’s back muscles twitched as some of the kolto sank into blisters that had already started to burst on their own. “Yeah, some things were changed. But what I’m talking about wasn’t.” He carefully coaxed her to bend her back so he could get at the rest of the burn. “The alley cat does anything to survive. That ranges from taking unsavory, possibly poisoned prey. It means hooking up with questionable partners.” To his credit, Theron kept a steady hand and didn’t shift his weight. He’d developed a good sabbac face after all as he started to layer bandages atop the kolto. “It means fighting with others for your territory, even if you don’t even need it. You just don’t want others to get too comfortable and think they can have anything of yours. Often, the needs of the alley cat can obscure or sabotage the selfless impulses that a Zalorian rock-lion has. You know they’re one of the few species that will consciously commit suicide to save others?”

Now that startled him, and he nearly dropped a bandage before recovering and applying it properly. The Captain pushed forward. “Bowie thinks the alley cat part of me is gone. There were some fights that I could have won in someone’s bed. There were others I could have sabotaged the other fighter. My ship is still unregistered and stuffed to the limit with cash, precious metals, and all sorts of loot now. Bowie and I could have lit out of this system and be halfway to the Outer Rim. You’d never find us.” The pressure Theron exerted on the bandage wrap became a bit firmer. “I brought them here instead.”

He took her point, but his eyebrow hitched up. “You mean him. Unless I’m now speaking to some weird emperor ghost?”

The Captain shook her head as Theron rounded the exam table to face her, snapping off the last set of gloves. Uh oh. There was that smile. That more-than-slightly-evil smile that completely destroyed any resolve he had. “The point is, I fought clean, I came back with the winnings to the Alliance. And to you. Despite hating this job.” Theron silently ran a finger down the undamaged side of her face, gloveless. “It’s the right thing for the man I’m devoted to. And he’s devoted to the cause.” The Captain looked up at him, hand reaching for the edge of his jacket. She said nothing, but he knew what she was asking. 

Theron felt the tension leave his face as he surrendered his forgiveness. He pressed a kiss to the one piece of skin on her face that wasn’t bloody, bruised, stitched, burned, sticky with kolto or slick with ointment. “You live as the lion you always were, without the insecurity of the alley cat. All because of me. Why?” Theron was mostly unpracticed with emotional attachments, so any chance he had to lure out clarifying information…. To be honest, he just wanted to hear her say she loved him.

Cheekily, she answered, “Because love makes people like me make choices that are stupid and unprofitable.” Despite the fat lip and black eyes, she still somehow managed to look coquettishly at him.

Now he laughed. He deserved that for blatantly fishing. “I love you, too.” This time, she carefully planted a kiss on his lips with her own, mindful of her injuries. He wiped a small bit of kolto off the edge of his lip. “No more of that. You have to let yourself heal up.” He let out his breath in a rush. “Maker, I’m glad you’re alive.”

She bobbed her head once, but gently poked her finger into his chest. “I can’t live my life on a shelf while you gaze adoringly at me. It’s not what turned you on in the first place.”

Theron begrudgingly shook his head. “No. I know. It was just different before we actually really cared about each other – I know that sounds awful. Sorry.” 

“I get it.” She took his hands in hers, as she figured a hug was out of the question, given all of the medical stuff smeared, wrapped, and sutured on her. 

“Out of curiosity, how’d it end?” 

She gently wove her swollen fingers between his. “It’s a bit jumpy, the memory, but…I think he was going to stomp my head in, but I rolled, found a broken off piece of chair – or something – and stabbed him with it. I got up, he fell down – I think. Or I pushed him.” Her eyelashes fluttered as her brain tried to process data that was more than a few hours old. She felt Theron’s gentle pressure on her hands. “Either way, he had part of a chair sticking out of him, I grabbed – I want to say I grabbed a shiv or a some piece of metal that had been sharpened, and with a boot to his neck, I threatened to run it through one ear and out the other. Judges called it a kill before I did it though.”

The Captain’s eyes darted up to see a mixture of pride, horror, love, and shock on Theron’s face. Yeah. That about summed up the situation. 

“Bowie got up. Credits were transferred to my account as last one still standing when the fight was called. We freed them, Theron. So many.” He smiled at her. She blinked a few times. “…We flew here. We were singing…” The Captain shook her head. “Brain fog. I can’t remember. You should probably ask Bowdaar. I wonder if they made a holovid of it…?”

Theron bent to kiss her cheek again. “I’m having Seetwo and Twovee watch you. You’re a sweet mess right now.” He released his right hand from her in order to use the scanner to send the med order out to the droids so they could prepare for nursemaid duties. 

At that exact moment, three things happened. Bowdaar arrived back with a spare shirt. Lana peered sleepily in from another door, wondering what all the noise was about. Theron finally noticed, on the lower right-hand side of the medbay screen, that there was an alert registering that the Captain’s dock had had its security monitor tripped dozens of times. More than just what Bowdaar could do in … wait. Why did it take over 90 minutes to get a shirt?

“What is going on in here?” Lana asked as she wrapped herself tightly in her cloak. Theron was only mildly curious about the pajamas that she wore, but he was far more curious about what those security sensors were trying to say. “By the Maker, what happened to the Commander?” 

“Got your shirt. They’re offloading and ready to work.” Bowdaar strode over to the exam table and initially offered the shirt to the Captain, but Theron intercepted it. 

“On your feet. I’ll put it on you.” He already had a sinking feeling about what had happened.

As the Captain slid off the table and let Theron dress her, Lana gazed up at Bowdaar. “Oh, hello Bowdaar. You’re here. Who are you here with?”

Bowdaar blinked at her. “You didn’t tell the pretty blonde lady?” he carefully asked the Captain. “Or Spike?”

“Spike?” Theron asked.

“You.” The Captain carefully reached up toward his hair, but he quickly captured the hand and put it down at her side. 

Bowdaar seemed greatly amused by this development. “Little Lioness still has the mischief of a Teek.” 

Theron silently buttoned up her shirt but as he reached the collar, he found himself smoothing out the lapels and listening. Very intently. “Is that--?”

Lana, still not quite awake, cocked her head to the side. “Singing? At this hour?” 

Stiffly but steadily, the Captain pushed past Theron to walk beside Bowdaar down the hallway back down toward the docks. Dawn was ready to break over Odessen. A roar went up as Bowdaar and the Captain stepped out. Theron and Lana hung back in the doorway, staring out into the twilight between night and day. The Captain’s dock was filled with about around 30 ragtag fighters, milling about. Lana was shocked.

Theron was surprised that they were indeed singing. Bowdaar’s words from earlier -- _great honor and virtue….She is the breaker of chains_ – fluttered back into Theron’s mind. The voices rang out from below:

_O Lady of Emancipation_

_Come open the door_

_Rattle the chains that bind us_

_We cannot wait, no more_

_Great Honor and Virtue_

_She is the Breaker of Chains_

_Beware, oh slaver, beware master of thralls_

_She ensures no one remains_

_Bow your heads and shield your necks_

_The hand of Fate, she directs_

_So may your conscience as your soul be free_

_O Lady of Emancipation, come for me_

As the song ended, cheers erupted as the Captain made a big show of waving to them all. Dawn shone light down upon her, battered and bruised but dressed in a clean white shirt. _One of them, yet something more._ Theron just shook his head in the shadows. _Nice timing and theatrical flair._ **This** was why she was the Alliance Commander. Despite her protestations, the smuggler couldn’t resist a good show. She did it for him. She did it for them, the ones below. 

“Thank you for your song. Please, follow the Wookiee to your new living quarters.” She made a big demonstration of flipping a white access card to Bowdaar before quickly retreating to the safety of the halls with Theron and Lana. 

“Was that the code for the Alliance Commander’s quarters?” Lana asked, annoyed. 

“I wasn’t using it.” The Captain shrugged. “We got a couple dozen new recruits with nowhere to go on short notice. There’s like six rooms for one person up there; 4 to a room, nice furniture all around.” 

Lana shook her head. “Who are these people?”

“Ex-slaves. I fought in a tournament cage match with Bowdaar, kicked ass, freed these gladiator slaves, made a lot of money.” 

Lana was visibly wavering between confusion and quiet rage as she heard the Alliance Commander describe her night. Theron felt reassured that he hadn’t lost his mind. “What are they supposed to do here?” Lana asked. 

“They had nowhere else to go. Bunch of the others had family, friends, jobs…these guys didn’t. We need more people. Why not? Aren’t we recruiting?” Suddenly the Captain went pale. “Theron, the hypo is wearing off.”

Theron swiftly moved to her side. “Ok, bedtime. Um. Lana.” He helplessly gestured toward flock that Bowdaar was now leading to the freight turbolift to get upstairs to the executive suite.

Lana just shook her head. “I’ll get dressed and get a bunch of droids to help sort them out. You make sure she doesn’t have any permanent brain damage. I think we’re all taking the day off, officially or not.” Wrapping her cloak around her, Lana strode down the hallway toward her own quarters as Theron tenderly encouraged the Captain to lean on him as he walked her home. 

Once inside the ship, as if on autopilot, she marched to their quarters and flopped face first into the bed. Theron was fairly sure she was out cold before her body fully landed. It was just after six, according to his chronometer, and he was still awake from yesterday’s six. Kriff. He pulled off both sets of their boots and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a spare chair. He vaguely remembered climbing into bed next to her before the world went black. 

**

Theron felt the late afternoon sunlight on his face, signaling it was time to return to the land of the living. He stretched an arm out for the Captain, but he made contact with cool bedsheets. She was gone. 

Eyes not fully open, he bolted upright. He called her name, questioningly. He heard a distinct clank as Toovee carefully stuck his head around the corner. “Hello, Master Shan,” it stuttered nervously. “The Captain is up for tea with Master Bowdaar. Would you like to join them?” Theron sleepily shook his head as he rolled out and hit the fresher, then went straight back to bed. 

**

Later, when the outside world was dark again, he felt the bed dip slightly as she rejoined him. He felt her arms snake around him. “Sorry I slept the day away,” he murmured. “Had the craziest dream. I heard you and Bowdaar laughing over a cat.”

She started to laugh, and he rolled over look at her. He was pleased to see that she was already looking a lot less like death than she had this morning. She’d changed into a set of pajamas and an old worn in dressing gown. “He just said to me that this was probably the most fun we’d had together since we accidentally made my old cat a god.” 

Theron looked at her quizzically. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. What?”

The Captain propped her head up on one arm as she launched into the story. “In short, I had to give up my old cat when it became obvious the Republic was not going to stop calling me in for high risk missions. Not you and Lana, but the whole thing with Dodonna and Darmas.” A brief shadow crossed her face. Theron had read that part in her file. He never brought it up. “I loved him—the cat, I mean. I didn’t want the cat to get spaced through an airlock. So we decided to stop by a local planet and rehome him. Well--” At this point, she began to have trouble maintaining her composure. “The natives had never seen a cat before.” 

Theron’s brow creased. This sounded like an elaborate joke. Then again, he had just survived this morning with them. Chaotic good never died. “That probably violates some sort of law of first contact somewhere.”

The Captain smirked. “They thought we were strangers from the stars who had given a god unto them to worship. We didn’t tell them otherwise, because Bowdaar thought they’d eat the cat if we did. The cat – Hylo – is 22 now. He’s made peace on the planet because all the other tribes want to worship his ancient self too.”

Theron rolled to his back and covered his face. “I can’t believe that. What’s going to happen if the cat dies?”

“Well, the rest of the crew were doing jobs at the time, so Bowdaar and I hadn’t thought of that. Risha did when she got back, and so she rigged up a shrine that, when the cat’s body was laid in it, would send a signal to all of us. One of us would find another cat and bring it to them.” The Captain explained it as if it were the most logical and reasonable thing to do.

Theron had his own most logical and reasonable thought. “Why don’t you just activate the signal and find your crew with it?” 

The Captain didn’t answer. 

Thereon lowered his hands from his eyes and peered over at her. It took him a moment to figure it out. “Let me guess. The signal would trigger other ‘supernatural’ events like a minor earthquake or holo images to foretell your coming. And you don’t want to frighten the people – or the cat – more than necessary.” She nodded. Theron reached over for a pillow and gently threw it at her. As muffled laughter emanated from her, Theron sighed, “Life is going to get more interesting with the two of you back together.”

The Captain tossed the pillow to the floor, still smiling. “By the way…about Lana…”

“Hmm?”

“They’ve been serenading Lana with the song all day today because she got them set up with all the amenities. She’s a Lady of Emancipation now too. She’s going to be a joy tomorrow.” 

Theron chuckled. “Are you jealous?”

“Only a little. It’s the song they wrote about _me_ on the way back to Odessen.”

With that, Theron pulled her close to him and teasingly began the tune.

_O Lady of Emancipation_

_Come open the door_

_Rattle the chains that bind us_

_We cannot wait, no more_

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this just using "the Captain", but if I continued to write, I'd probably name the Captain. First foray into this fandom.
> 
> sullustangin.tumblr.com


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